Baptism
by asilentherald
Summary: Dean is plagued by dreams of Castiel's return, which Dean can't stand to imagine; he can't lose Cas again.
1. Chapter 1

PART 1

At the end of September, tree grew in the middle of the lake. Locals called it a miracle how quickly and extensively the tree grew through the frosty nights of autumn. Its branches spread like wings, casting cold shadows on every inch of water. The wind rustled its limbs and leaves but never enough to snap even the smallest twig. Locals started seeing sickness in the tree as it grew and it should have grown weak as its leaves fell permanently, but the tree did not perish. No, it was as if it was fighting hard against the sickness that inflicted it and it was not about to let it defeat it. The tree kept its head above the water and the ice when winter came around.

In the spring, when the ice melted and its aching limbs could shake off the icicles, the tree began to die. Even then, nothing ever broke off. Every piece remained attached, but slowly the disease wilted every extension from the dark, twisted trunk. The locals wanted to cut it down, but there was no way—it was too big, too far out in the water. Only time could relieve the tree of its pain and the locals of the hassle. So they waited with the tree for the first strong storm of the summer to send it sinking through the depths of the water.

Toward the end of May, on the eve of summer's moisture and burn, the Impala drove up to the lake. Sam and Dean Winchester got out of the car.

"You sure this is gonna work?" asked Dean, eyeing his brother. Sam did not look particularly confident, but he said it would as soon as he saw his brother steal a glance through the rear window of the Impala.

"It should, Dean. That's what Cas said, right? That the grace would still be here?"

"The man was half out of his mind when he found us. I dunno, Sammy. Hard to know when he can't string two words together," said Dean, shaking his head as he opened the trunk of the car. He started rummaging through the collection of weapons.

"Should we try and wake him?" Sam asked, nodded at the back seat. Dean kept pushing guns and bags of salt around.

Dean grunted in response. Sam opened the door to the back seat of the Impala; he peered inside. Castiel lay on the back seat, his pale, unshaven face stretched by the pained sleep in which he was so deeply trapped. Sam watched the former angel's hands clench and unclench around the shotgun Dean had given to him.

"Get his ass outta the car, Sam. We're losing time," ordered Dean. He was already standing by the gates, yanking at the rusty lock.

"Right, uh, just a sec—"

Sam knelt and reached into the car.

"Hey. Cas? Cas, we're here," said Sam, shaking Cas by the shoulder. Castiel mumbled in his sleep. His lips tightened into a line and he turned his face toward the seat of the car. Sam heard the gates snap open.

"Holy—Sam, get Cas over here already! The damn tree's gonna keel over!"

"It's falling? Crap. Cas, come on. You've gotta get up. Cas—"

"What? What's wrong?" demanded Dean, marching up behind Sam. He poked his head in the car. "Sleeping Beauty, come on. You dragged us out here, so rise and shine."

Cas lay motionless, still facing the seat. His hands were relaxed around the gun, which was slowly sliding out of his weak grip. Dean turned Cas over onto his back; the gun fell to the floor of the car. Blood was slowly running from his nose down his face. He pressed his fingers to his neck; Sam watched Dean's face lose its color.

"Cas—no, Cas, we're almost—don't die on me now, Cas. Sam—"

Sam jumped out of the way instantly. Dean pulled Cas into his arms and out of the Impala. Dean carried Cas all the way to the water's edge just as the tree started to sway dangerously. Every so often, Dean heard the sound of crumbling wood. A storm was on the air and it was just winding up for its first punch.

"Damn it," breathed Dean. "Now what? Sam—tell me you've got somethin'. Please!"

"Uh—," Sam stammered.

He reached into his pocket and read over the hasty notes he'd taken on the day that Cas had stumbled into their motel room, hardly able to stand on his legs, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. He had written everything that Cas had managed to say before passing out. Dean had sat staring at the dying man for a long time before reaching for the liquor on the nightstand while Sam read the notes over and over.

Sam now read the sheet of paper three, four, five times, searching for something different, but he might as well have read it once. He knew from the start that there was nothing that could help them if Cas died before they got to the only thing that could save him.

"Damn it, Sam—"

"I'm trying! Dean, I—"

There was a soft shift in Dean's arms. Dean's eyes widened.

"Cas?"

"Dean… the water…," he rasped. Cas's eyes fluttered; Dean tried to catch a glimpse of the bright blue. "It'll take me to the rest of my grace."

"You'll drown, you moron. You're gonna die before you get to the tree."

"Dean, please. Let me go."

"Dean!" shouted Sam.

"What, Sam?" snapped Dean.

"Just do what he says—we don't have time, or options!" Sam said. Dean could hear the desperation in his brother's voice, the edge that he knew they would both fall over if they lost their friend again. It was going to be worse if they lost him because Dean did not try every option they had.

The winds were picking up. The tree looked dangerously close to toppling over, creaking and stretching its old bones, shifting in its watery seat.

"Dean—"

He walked through the water until it was up to his waist before letting Castiel out of his arms. Dean watched the limp vessel sink. When he saw Cas open his eyes beneath the water just before falling out of sight and lock on Dean's eyes, he very nearly dove after him. But Dean took a step back and watched, even when every fiber in his body was screaming, _no, you son of a bitch, go after him and get him the hell out of there!_

The sky tore open and rain fell in sheets against them, hitting their skin with the precision of trained knives. Dean clambered out of the water and stood next to Sam under the cover of a nearby tree.

"Can you see him?"

Sam shook his head.

"Damn it!" Dean said quietly, turning away from the lake.

"Dean—"

"What? Is he out?" Dean asked, suddenly turning around.

"Move!" yelled Sam, pulling Dean by the arm away from the lake. The tree was falling hard and fast, totally ignorant of the waves it created, the boys watching in terror, or the former angel in its growing shadow. They barely reached the Impala in time. The highest branches hardly touched the side of the car, but Dean still slid his hands along the doors, feeling for damage.

"Close," exhaled Sam.

"No kidding."

Dean stepped over the branches, making his way back toward the banks. He caught sight of a figure dragging itself above the water, barely staying up long enough to catch some air. Without a thought Dean threw his jacket aside and dove in after him. Sam heard the splash and ran to the gate.

"Dea—" he started to shout before his eyes registered what he was seeing: Dean and a very pale, very human-looking Castiel. "Something's wrong," he realized. His eyes widened as the right train of thought took form. He reached in his pocket and read over the notes from the day Cas had returned again. As heart began to beat hard and fast, Sam began to understand what was happening.

"Sammy!" shouted Dean, something catching the end of his brother's name in his throat on a fine little hook. He turned back to Cas, who was lying on his back on the gravel, eyes shut, his body perfectly relaxed. Dean reached down and moved his head so he faced the sky and the falling rain. The blood on his lips and nose slunk away.

_I need you, Dean,_ he said. Cas had not actually spoken the words, but Dean heard them in every way. He couldn't stop hearing them ever since the day he stumbled back from the dead, and Dean had no idea how to tell him the same. He couldn't communicate the way Cas did, and he was supposed to be the human, the one with the feelings and the emotions.

"Cas, come on. I need you, too."

Castiel did not move. He continued to lie on the gravel, emotionless and still. And frail. He looked more breakable than ever. Dean looked up and around. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it, Cas, you owe me big if this works."

He leaned down to Cas's face. Dean retracted a couple of inches but one more look at the angel's pale lips was all it took.

_I need you, too_.

His lip just barely brushed Cas's mouth when he jumped backward.

"Oh, son of a—sleeping beauty my ass…."

But Dean looked back down at Cas's body and regretted instantly. Dean crawled back to Cas's side and kissed him on the forehead, brushing the wet hair out of his eyes.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, jogging down the hill. He was carrying something in his hands. "Dean, I've got it. The grace—not all of Cas's grace was in the tree! Some of it went into his coat! Here," Sam threw the coat at Dean, "put it on him and get him back in the water."

"Sam, are you blind? It's too damn late! You couldn't'a figured this out five minutes ago?"

"Cut it out, Dean. Just—just try. There's a chance we'll get him back, so—"

"He's _gone_, Sam! Gone!" roared Dean, standing up. "Try if you want, but, goddamn it, I bet Cas is in a better place now. I say let him go. He doesn't need us where he is now, and that's prob'ly better for him."

Dean stormed back to the Impala and out of view. Sam glared after his brother for only a moment before getting Cas's body upright.

"Come on, Cas, help me out here," he muttered, pulling his limp, slim arms through the sleeves of the trench coat. As Sam pulled Cas's other arm halfway through the sleeve, he started gasping for air. Cas's eyes snapped open and he started sucking air in irregularly.

"Cas—Cas, Cas, hang on—stop moving—you'v—," Sam said, struggling to keep Cas from rolling back into the water. As soon as the trench coat was completely on Cas's body, he said,

"The water. Help me."

Sam helped Cas to his feet, got a good grip on him, and started walking into the lake. He nearly tripped over the branches snaking beneath the surface in every direction. Sam could only get so far.

"What do you want me to do?" asked Sam. "Cas? Cas, stay with me. We need you—"

"Water. Let me go."

"But—"

"Under the water. Leave me there, and go find Dean. Come back when you find him. Go, Sam."

Sam met Cas's unfocused eyes for a second. He knew Cas knew what he was doing, so he gently let Cas sink beneath the water once more. He waded back to the shore, forced himself not to turn around to watch the water, and ran up to the Impala. Dean was sitting on the back of the car with a full can of beer in his hands, staring at the ground. He did not look up when Sam approached him.

"Dean—Cas's—"

"Dead."

"No, he's going to be okay!" said Sam with a small laugh of disbelief. "Dean, he's gonna be fine. Come on."

"Sam, no. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of getting my hopes up and then watching everything just _die_. I'm just… I'm—what the—?"

Dean's eyes widened, focusing on a point behind Sam; Sam turned around and the Winchesters watched the water of the lake brighten and the tree darken and disintegrate. Even the branches near them broke down and blew away in the intensifying wind. The bulb in the street lamp over their heads burst in a shower of sparks.

Sam and Dean ran to the gate and watched the water return to normal. The pieces of the tree gathered in the center of the lake where the tree's trunk once stood. Every piece quickly turned from black to the purest white as the water spun around a single point faster and faster until it emitted a bright beam of light from the center of the lake. Sam hid his eyes, but Dean watched a little longer. He couldn't tear his eyes away, especially when he heard a familiar sound—the sound of angelic voices speaking in hurried whispers of old Enochian. The ground shook. The windows of the Impala shattered and cascaded with the rain. Dean fell to his knees, finally shutting his eyes and covering his ears with his hands.

Finally, the voices stopped. Quiet—a gun-toting silence—settled over the trees. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes. In the center of the lake, there was a figure overshadowed by the great shadows of his wings; his whole form glowed and trembled with the grace of the Lord as it settled back into its owner. Dean stood and took a couple of steps toward the bank of the water. Sam quickly appeared beside him.

"Cas?" Dean finally said, struggling to steady his voice.

Castiel approached them with slow, calm steps across the surface of the water, the light around him slowly dissipating as he came closer. Sam took an instinctive step backward.

"Don't run, Sam," said Cas in the steady, gravelly voice that the Winchester had gone so long without hearing. Finally the light completely disappeared. Cas stood before them with water up to his knees, the bottom of his trench coat floating in the water. His arms were wide open. Cas looked first at Dean, then at Sam, and back at Dean. "Thank you. I can't start to thank you."

"Cas—thank God."

Sam rushed forward and threw his arms around the angel. Dean snickered; Cas looked quite surprised. His face reddened for a moment before he awkwardly hugged Sam back. He exhaled and smiled.

"I suppose that was overdue," Cas said when Sam let him go.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a grin. Sam glanced back at Dean, who shot an annoyed look right back at him. "Welcome back. It wasn't the same without you, Cas."

"I'm just… happy to be alive," Cas said, finally smiling widely. His eyes rested on Dean. Sam watched his brother, who suddenly looked like he was at a lack for words.

"Cas. Uh—"

"I understand, Dean. No need to say anything," said Cas.

"I'm happy you're alive, too. Damn it, Cas, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I need you," he finally said, his voice breaking ever so slightly on the last word. Cas said nothing, only watched Dean curiously. The rain started falling harder.

"Well, let's ship off before we get a flood going here," Dean stated gruffly. Sam nodded and started heading back toward the car. Dean and Cas followed.

"But Dean, God hasn't said anything about a flood."

"Not what I meant, Cas," grinned Dean, wrapping his arm around Cas's shoulder.

"Have you heard something? Did the angels announce the flood while I was gone?"

"Sure."

"And the ark—"

Dean pulled Cas into a hug, silencing him. He kissed him on the forehead and looked at the angel. Cas only smiled at Dean. Neither said a word, lest the moment be killed so unceremoniously. In the distance the Impala's engine revved in time with the thunder rolling overhead.

Thunder ripped through the sky and Dean woke with a start. He looked around the dark motel room, lit only by the gray light of the storm outside. He sat up in the chair; the gun with which he'd fallen asleep fell from his hands to the floor. As he bent to pick it up, the old trench coat, which still smelled of the lake Dean swore he would never see again, fell from behind his head to the ground. Dean picked this up as well and put the two objects on his lap. He stared at them, his mind blank. Dean ran his hands aimlessly from the metal to the fabric and back.

_Damn it, Cas. I still need you._

Dean took the gun, the trench coat, his car keys, and his half-empty bottle of whiskey. Dean slammed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

PART 2

Sam woke as soon as the door shut.

"Dean?"

He watched the Impala pull out of the space across from the window in the parking lot and veer onto the street.

"Dean!" he yelled, running out the door and into the pouring rain. "Damn it!"

Sam returned to the motel room, shutting the door carefully. He did not want to attract the attention of any of the other guests at the motel.

He started cramming all of their belongings into the bags they had. He pulled out his cell phone and started to call Bobby when he remembered that no one would be on the other end. A rush of sadness and anger ran over Sam, but he was used to it. He knew how to let them go through him without letting them break him. The feelings subsided when he remembered that he and Dean had taken care of the bastard that had killed Bobby Singer. They had sent every last damn Leviathan back to Purgatory more than two months ago and yet Dean still could not pull himself out of the depression that had trapped him ever since Cas's betrayal. It only swallowed him more deeply with every misfortune along the way, especially with Bobby's death. Sam had done everything that Dean was willing to let him do to help him, but nothing was working.

Sam ran through the contacts on his phone and called Dean's cell. The phone, he found, was on the table by the armchair where Dean had fallen asleep.

He stuffed the last of their belongings into a duffle bag and made for the door when he stopped and threw the bag on the floor. "Damn it, Dean. What the hell are you doing now?"

There came a knock. Then, another few irregular knocks, soft and jumbled. Sam, frowning, walked to the door and opened it. A man with dark hair and an unshaven face was hunched against the doorframe.

"Uh, look, buddy, now's not really a good time…," Sam said, closing the door.

"Wait."

A weak hand stopped the door, but he only had to speak in order to get Sam's attention. The man raised his head. He hardly had the strength to meet Sam Winchester's eyes.

"Cas?"

Dean drove around for a long time before pulling over. He did not know what he wanted to do. He looked between the gun and the trench coat at the seat of the Impala. He was starting to regret leaving Sam so abruptly, but it was not important. Nowadays, not much registered as important in Dean's mind. Something, some piece of him, was long gone, and he knew the chances of getting it back were slim.

The dream had only made him feel worse. For that short time, he had his friend back. He was able to tell him how much he actually needed him, but it was not real. None of it was real. Who was he kidding? Cas was long gone. But Dean couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't a normal dream. His eyes kept straying back to the trench coat, as if it was watching him, trying to say something.

"Oh, shut it," Dean growled. His mind felt empty again. He reached for the bottle of whiskey and took a swig. Dean considered driving up to where Bobby's house used to be, just to screw his bad feelings even more deeply, but he decided against it. He couldn't leave Sam and go so far. No, Dean figured it'd be smarter to head back to motel once he cooled off a bit more.

He felt completely exhausted all of a sudden, and the rain was only worsening. He took grabbed the trench coat and climbed into the back seat. Like many times before, he lied down and, with his head on the trench coat, he fell asleep.

"Sam," Cas managed to say. He tried to stand but as soon as he let go of the wall, he swayed and fell forward. Sam caught him and pulled him in to the motel.

"Cas—Cas, hang on—," Sam said as he led him to Dean's unmade bed. Cas landed in a heap on the sheets. Cas tried to sit up, but he fell back down. "Take it easy, Cas… god, Cas, how are you here? You're—you were dead."

Sam stared at him. He stared at the weak man as if he had never seen him before. Cas's lips hardly moved when he said,

"Water."

"Oh. Yeah! Sorry—"

Sam rushed to the sink and filled the last clean glass with water. He handed it to Cas, who could hardly keep from sloshing it all over his clothes. Only when the water spilled did Sam notice what he was wearing: a loose t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He had sandals on his feet.

"Sam… I'm sorry…."

"Cas, just rest. We can talk later when you're feeling better, okay?"

"No—Sam, I'm dying. You have to listen to me," Cas begged, turning his gleaming blue eyes on Sam. He looked positively feverish. Sam reached out and touched his forehead: he was cold as ice. Then, Cas began to explain.

"They had me in my vessel. They were killing me slowly… it was very painful. I fought them, but they were too strong. I think they thought they'd killed me, but they did something far worse… they ripped my grace away from me little by little.

"When they finally left my vessel, I was left in what was left of my vessel on the bottom of the lake with just a shred of grace. Thankfully, it was just enough to pull bits of my vessel back together. With every bit of the vessel I recovered, I became a little stronger. But I was still drowning down there… I needed my grace back, or I was going to die."

"So you got out of the lake? When was that?" asked Sam.

"Only a few days ago," Cas said slowly. He paused to take a couple of breaths. "I'm human, Sam, but I'm dying so quickly. The Leviathans left a terrible injury in this body—only the rest of my grace can fix it."

"So we've gotta find the rest of your grace? Is it back at the lake?"

"I expect it would be," sighed Cas, shutting his unfocused eyes. "I did not try and take it all in when I was still under the water. The risk was too great. I was still too weak, not that I am much better now," Cas added with a small smile. "Where is Dean?"

A shadow crossed Sam's face.

"Gone. I don't know why or where. He just took off," Sam said, irritated.

"Did you fight with him?"

"No… we were sleeping. We just finished a job and we were tired as hell. He just got up and left. Took your coat and a gun and some whiskey."

"My… coat?" repeated Cas. Slowly a smile formed on his cracked lips. "Sam, he will be back."

"How can you be so sure?"

Cas did not respond. His face settled into something of a smile, a very slight upturn of the lips, his mind focused on something far away and long gone.

"Cas?"

Sam watched the dying man fall into a slow, deep sleep. He waited half an hour, an hour, two hours, even three hourse, but neither did Cas wake nor Dean reappear. Sam stared at the notes he'd taken, his mind blank. He took a sip of water and set the cup down on the edge of the table; it fell and shattered.

-

Lightning struck the great tree in the middle of the lake. The water came alive and the one figure standing in the water, swathed in a tan coat, took in all the lightning. He raised his face to the sky and smiled. Everything turned white. The tree fell in a black heap, but the man in the water was unscathed.

Dean watched from afar.

"Cas?" he called. The man in the water turned around.

"_I'm sorry, Dean."_

The water swallowed him in one gulp.

"Cas!" he yelled, running through the shallow end of the water. Dean felt the tingle of electricity running up his legs but he didn't care. The trench coat floated up to him, but Cas was nowhere to be seen. Dean took the trench coat in his arms. Hell, he put it on before diving under the water. He searched the dark waters but saw no one, only roots that threated to scrape his eyes out if he took a wrong turn.

Deeper and deeper he swam. He was running out of air as he reached the base of the tree, the root of the roots. Dean found Cas under the base, perfectly calm, eyes closed and concentrated. He reached and stretched, but no matter how hard he tried, Dean could not reach him.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, letting the last of his air out into the water. Panic kicked in. He started swallowing mouthfuls of water, his lungs pulling him down with leaden strings. Dean flailed until he grabbed hold of one of the largest roots. He felt a blinding shock as soon as he touched it to push off and swim to the surface.

Air was suddenly around him. Dean felt the cold wind holding him up. When the light around him subsided and he could breathe properly, Dean looked down—he was high above the surface of the water. He started to panic again, but he looked from one side to the other and understood.

_Wings._

An idea occurred to him. And suddenly, he dove straight back into the lake.

Dean woke with a start. He looked around; the rain had subsided during his nap. Dean got out of the car and walked around to the driver's seat. He searched his pockets for his cell.

"Damn it," he said. Dean started the car and drove back to the motel.

When he opened the door, he found the room cleared of all their belongings.

"What the—?"

There came a ringing from the table by the chair where he had slept. Dean flipped it open and read the caller ID: Sam.

"Where the hell are you?" Dean demanded.

"Me? You're the one who took off!" Sam snapped back. "Look—doesn't matter—Dean, Cas is here. He's with me."

"Oh, cut the crap, Sam. Just get your ass back here so we can leave."

"Dean, no—Cas found us right after you left. He's dying. He needs his grace back. I took a car; we're on our way back to Bootbock. Cas says it's still there. Can you meet us there? Fast?"

Dean already started the Impala's engine by the time Sam finished his question.

"Just—tell Cas to hang on. I'm coming."


	3. Chapter 3

PART 3

"You sure this is gonna work?" Sam asked.

"It should. You said Cas said it would, didn't he?" Dean said, though he looked a little doubtful.

"It sounded like there was something else, though."

"Something else? What do you mean, something else?"

"I dunno," shrugged Sam. "I wish I knew, but Cas passed out before I could get anything else out of him."

Dean reached into the back of the Impala and pulled out the trench coat. He looked at it for a couple of moments before throwing it at Sam.

"I'll grab Cas. You bring the coat."

Sam did not question his brother. He paused to grab a couple of weapons from the trunk of the Impala before catching up to his brother. Sam stopped short a couple of feet behind Dean when he caught him standing at the water's edge, holding Cas, talking to him.

"Cas… uh, I know you can't hear me right now. Hell, it's probably better that way," he said with a weak laugh, "but I don't wanna let you die again. Not unless I can tell you something. I… need you here, Cas. I don't know what I'm gonna do if I lose you again. It was bad that day, but, son of a bitch, it just got worse every day after that. I did everything to deal with this shit, but they're all gone. All those sons of bitches are back where they should be, but they're still hurting us. They took Bobby, and now they're gonna take you again. Just… don't go again. Got it?"

Dean did not finish his sentence. Sam sighed slowly, watching his brother's shoulders hunch. He always had a guess about how deep Dean's love for the angel ran, but this was more of an admittance of love than he had ever heard out of his brother's mouth for Lisa or anyone else for a long, long time.

Sam looked away, his fingers tightening on the trench coat. Making sure Dean was still lost in his world with Cas in his arms, Sam looked up at the sky.

_Help us. I don't know if you can hear me, but you've saved us before. You've done a lot for Cas, too, but … this is for us, too. Dean's not the only one who's gonna be hurting if Cas is really gone. I never thought he was gone for good… but if we see him actually go… I don't know what's gonna happen to us. We lost everyone—you can't be so cold and let us have Cas back for a few hours and just take him right back—_

"Sam! You done watching the clouds or what? Help me get the coat on Cas."

"Right—sorry," he said, hurrying forward. Dean helped Cas onto his feet and held him upright as Sam started to pull Cas's arms through the sleeves. Dean was watching intensely. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, not tearing his eyes away from Cas's face.

"Dean… if he goes down in the water, the coat's just gonna drag him down. You know that, right?" Sam said as he finally got Cas's arm through the sleeve. He started working on the other arm. Dean continued to watch with such rapt attention that Sam had to say his name several times to get his attention.

"I had a dream, Sam. This—all this happened."

"You mean like a psychic dream?" frowned Sam. "That's not—"

"No, no… it wasn't like what your demon mojo did to you," said Dean, shaking his head. "It didn't happen exactly like this. Cas'd been back a few days, but he was just like this… weak, human, dying because he didn't have enough grace holding him together. And it wasn't enough, the grace in the tree. But there was the last bit missing and it was in the coat…. We put it on him and he went back in the water, and—I woke up."

"Was Cas okay?" asked Sam. Dean did not respond immediately.

"Woke up before I could tell. Still… I know it's in the coat. Hell, I think the coat's the thing that's telling me—I had the dreams when I was using it as a pillow."

Dean stopped and looked up at the tree. It was the same as in the dream, only still upright. It looked ready to collapse, yes, but it was in one piece. The storm was still on the air, but it had not struck yet. The first drops fell as they finally got the last of the trench coat on Cas's body. His head rolled from side to side.

"Damn it, Cas," whispered Dean, his wide eyes fixed on Cas. "You were supposed to wake up."

"What are you—?"

"Go get dad's notebook."

"Why? There's nothing in there."

"Just go," barked Dean, not looking up from Cas's bent head. "I, uh, put some papers in them. Need 'em."

Sam did not object this time. He understood. Sam turned and left the lake, looking back only when he reached the gate. He watched Dean wade through the water. He could have sworn he saw Dean's face bend down over Cas's, but he was too far away to know for certain.

"Cas," Dean breathed, lowering his head as he stopped walking through the water. "You better be right about all this."

Cas's head moved ever so slightly. Dean's eyes widened. Under the water he could see Cas's hands move and his fingers flex. Dean dipped Cas's head under the water for a second or so, but he still was not awake. Dean did this two, three times more before Cas sputtered and opened his eyes.

"Dean."

"Cas—hang on—"

"The water… Dean, let me go."

"You're gonna drown. No. Not gonna happen," Dean said, shaking his head, holding on tightly to Cas's body. Cas gave him a little smile.

"I'll be fine. I can do this."

"Oh, where've I heard that one before, Cas?" snapped Dean. "No."

"You're being unreasonable. I'm awake… but I'll die here in your arms, Dean. Just let me go."

"I _can't_. Cas—"

Cas, in a burst of unexpected strength, broke out of Dean's grip and dove under the water. Dean stood, staring as the waves hit him. Rain began to pour harder.

"—I need you to come back, Cas! Got it? Just get your ass up here as soon as you're done!" yelled Dean, kicking at the water as he trudged to shore.

He kept cursing under he breath, shaking the water out of his boots, until he heard the _crunch_. Dean spun around. The tree was crumbling, falling in massive, irregular chunks into the murky water. He watched the massive trunk splinter; Dean could see the other side of the lake through a growing hole in the wood.

"Dean!" came Sam's frantic voice. Sam appeared at his side. "Come on—it's gonna fall—"

"Cas is still down there, Sam. I'm not leaving him!"

The sky erupted with lightning, flashing in every direction. Dean and Sam ran toward the Impala, but not soon enough—they still caught the moment that the lightning struck the tree and split it cleanly down the middle. The whole lake was illuminated, but not in a blinding sort of way or in a way that indicated that the water was full of hot electricity. No, there was something else down there that the lightning had freed.

"It's Cas," Sam breathed with an insuppressible smile forming on his face. He looked at his brother, whose face was chiseled into a frown. "Dean, that was it—he got the grace!"

Dean watched the water, which was still glowing and turbulent.

"Maybe, but something's not right, Sam. Come on."

Dean ran back down to the water's edge. He threw his shoes and his jacket onto the ground; Sam did the same and they waded into the water. It was cold as ice all of a sudden. Dean dove under the water and swam around, searching, but when he came up for air, he found nothing. They swam closer to the middle of the lake and the water became colder and colder. They could see their breath linger over the surface of the lake.

Right where the tree had split, deep beneath the water, there was something glowing and turbulent and strong. Against the brightness, they could see a figure, trapped between the roots. Instantly, Dean and Sam dove under the water. Deeper and deeper they swam, fighting through dead branches that wove around them like walls of a maze. Sam could hardly fit through a couple of spaces, but they managed.

Finally they reached the clear of the bare base of the trunk before the roots. Even there the tree was split right up to the actual base. There, right where the roots spread and flowered in a tangled mess of unyielding wires, holding together the last of the trunk, was the ball of light—the grace. It was less of a ball and more of a galaxy of revolving bits of starlight concentrated at the bottom of the lake.

The only thing missing was Castiel.

Dean, heart pounding with worry, lungs pounding for air, swam around to the mess of roots and almost breathed out in relief. There was Cas, stuck in the tangle of roots. He waved at Sam and they took Cas by a shoulder each. It took some careful maneuvering and tugging, but they freed him from the roots. Dean pressed his fingers to Cas's neck—there was a very faint pulse that he very nearly missed. Cas's eyes fluttered and fixed on Dean for a moment before his head fell forward.

Dean and Sam swam hard back to the other side of the roots. When they reached the grace, they lowered Cas to it, still careful not to let him float away and holding him by the shoulders.

The light was suddenly blinding. Cas disappeared. The water ran hot and Dean and Sam were propelled through the water to the surface. They gasped for air, hardly able to keep themselves from passing out. They swam to the shore and collapsed on the gravel. Dean looked over at his brother and saw that he had passed out. He raised his head ever so slightly to get a look at the lake, but it was too much. His head cut open with pain, his hand stung as though he had been burned, and his sight went black.

They were moving. Dean slowly opened his eyes and raised his head. His hand slid over the familiar upholstery of the Impala, which was steadily moving. He blinked a couple of times and looked out the window at the rapidly passing farmland. Dean looked over—Sam was driving. He sat up and his head gave a nasty throb.

"Jesus—"

"Morning, sunshine," grinned Sam.

"How long was I out?" Dean asked groggily, still holding his head.

"An hour or so. We didn't leave that long ago," said Sam. Dean shifted around. The trench coat fell out from behind his head. His heart sank hard and fast. He picked it up and noticed that his hand—the one that had gripped Cas's shoulder—was red and raw.

"I had the weirdest dream, Sammy," said Dean, staring at his hand. Sam looked over and Dean. He shifted his grip on the steering wheel, flexing his one hand.

"Looked like it was a good one."

"Yeah. I'm going back to sleep," Dean said, rolling over toward the window.

"You don't want to stop for pie? There's a diner coming up," suggested Sam.

"No. I'm good," Dean said quietly, staring at the lock on the door.

The gun on the floor of the car caught the gray light from the rainy sky, as did the side view mirror. Dean caught his reflection for a second and a glimpse into the back seat. He looked once, but he had to look again—there he was, fast asleep on the back seat, dressed in the old holy tax accountant outfit.

"Sam—"

"I know. Not a dream, bro. Feels like it," he said, "but it's not. I told Cas not to wake you… didn't seem like you were getting much sleep lately. We figured you needed the rest. Oh, and he let you sleep on the coat. He said you needed it as much as he did."

Dean turned and looked into the back seat, watching the resting angel for a long moment. He felt a throbbing ache shake him, but it was one of happiness, and that is why it felt so strong and so wrong. He was Dean Winchester. Happiness was not a real option, not after all the shit he and Sam had been through. But here he was and, even for a moment, even if it was all in a dream and this was just another one of many mindfucks, he was happy.

"Yeah. I guess he was right."


End file.
